


Near Occasions of Sin

by universalgleam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: (or the modern day i guess?), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Catholicism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, There Will Be Smut™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalgleam/pseuds/universalgleam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An external set of circumstances which incite or entice one to sin; specifically, one to which men of like caliber almost always succumb. (This proximate occasion may be necessary, that is, such as a person cannot avoid or abandon.)</p><p>In which the staunchly religious Obi-Wan Kenobi is tortured by what he can’t have (that is, the uncontrollable, free-thinking, ever-sinning Anakin Skywalker).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disordered

**Author's Note:**

> initially, this was intended to be set in the present-day, but on reading it back, it fits much better in the early/mid-90s.
> 
> catholicism abounds here – i mean no offense to any of you who may be religious, i myself was raised catholic through my young adolescence. it’s a complicated institution and this work makes no effort to debate it, only to utilize it as a theme. (as such, all scripture/religious text italicized within is not indicative of my own views.)

_This inclination, which is objectively disordered, constitutes for most of them a trial.  
[Catechism of the Catholic Church]_

It first appeared at fourteen.

Just a wisp, then – nothing like the full-fledged abandon with which my mind disposes of its morality these days. Just a hint. A boy with blue eyes whose hand I held on the basketball court after dark. He moved to kiss me; I ran away. He scowled at me; then in high school he dated tall girls with slim hips who entered a room like they owned it. We never spoke of that night again.

But countless were the days I found myself spread-eagle on my bed, willing away thoughts of a faceless male body entwined with my own. How it would feel for a beard to rasp against my chin during a rough kiss – a calloused palm holding me upright, stroking? – and in real-time I’d fall to my knees on the wood floor, rosary gripped in my hands.

I blamed it on minor transgressions – skipping mass last week, stealing chocolates from Sister Margaret’s desk when the classroom was deserted. Surely these lurid thoughts, the unnatural vice, were a punishment for my wrongdoings.

However, I am fourteen no longer; at thirty-six it has become quite tiresome to blame this… perversion on such petty occurrences. No, I know now this must be inherent.

And while I cannot claim to be the purest man – for the premarital sex; for the ceaseless self-pleasure I broke and gave into at fifteen; for far too many drinks, alone, a consolation prize – I have not yet allowed myself to sin in this way.

Part of my brain screams ‘hypocrite’ – and who follows religion so blindly these days? And who allows God to determine their happiness, their fate?

Another part tells me I’m no hypocrite, just a fool – because God doesn’t control my fate anymore. _He_ does. _Anakin._

Anakin. The boy I shouldn’t know, not really – so damn me for involving myself. What was I to do? I’d never seen him at mass before, but here he stood, then, in the back by the doors. And he was crying. And, Lord, was he beautiful. Out-of-place, sure – boys so unkempt were not the standard in Park Slope – but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

It all started with an extended hand (mine) and shocked, bright blue eyes still leaking tears (his). Names exchanged, I couldn’t help but repeat his – _Anakin –_ and now I know so well his name is sin! (And did I know it then?)

I’d quickly learned his mother had just died, that he was alone here, in the city, and now he thought himself alone – full stop. And I hadn’t been able to stop myself from baring my soul to this… near-stranger. Anakin. I told him of Father Jinn, ten years past but never forgotten; unashamed, he held me – I held him – and under the guise of grief and goodwill, it seemed so innocent.

(I withheld the fact that Father Jinn was the only one with whom I’d been able to confess my most shameful secret; in turn, I was the only one who knew how he indulged, broke the rules – how he smoked marijuana to relax, his joking mentions to his not-quite-celibacy. And yet, many of the elders in the church scoffed at him; after his passing, I heard the rumor whispered and spit down near-empty corridors, that it was AIDS which claimed him – but I’m resigned, now, that I will never know the truth.)

Yet unlike me – and were I able to see this that first Sunday, I may never have extended my hand – Anakin is… _attached_. To anything, to anyone who holds a promise of comfort. And, really, it’s understandable given his life – the rebellious attitude, vocabulary melded from his Sunset Park adolescence, from a childhood spent in New Mexico; and above all, the distrust of the church, the one his mother never left despite it leaving her, pregnant, unwed, _alone._ And his attachment to her, to her memory, showed even then, in his brazen self-defiance as he stepped into an institution that he felt had only ever wanted to push him out.

Men like me don’t have the luxury to form attachments, though – least of all with gangly, smirking, gorgeous young men.

Attached he grew, though, and now I find myself, more and more each day, keeping my distance, no hugs because we’re both alright, aren’t we, Anakin? No. I am not. Is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's hoping this intro doesn't seem rushed! i didnt exactly want to spend pages and pages on backstory, if u want any clarification on the meta of this AU, let me know.


	2. Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these next two chapters are very short and i'm just putting them up because they're done, really - once i'm finished writing it, i'm going to put the story all into a single chapter, probably, as i don't see it being much longer than 6-8k words total.
> 
> anyway, hope u enjoy

_Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God?  
[I Corinthians 6:9]_

 

Often, now, I find myself in situations from which I cannot escape.

Today it’s a chat over coffee, nothing more. But I am seated at Anakin’s table, in Anakin’s apartment. With Anakin. Who, as it turns out, has no shortage of questions to ask. We’ve now met many times, at parks and cafés; but being in his apartment, his space, is so foreign.

“You’re not, like, a… secret priest, are you?”

I laugh, though it feels strangely empty. “What exactly would that entail? A double life?” I feel like I’m wearing a mask when I’m around him. It is nothing short of painful.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m sure _someone’s_ tried to do that before, right?”

“Well… I suppose someone may have tried. But not I.”

I seem to have a talent for making a fool of myself in front of this–

 _Boy. He’s_ twenty _, Obi-Wan, for God’s sake._

“…and why do you ask, Anakin?”

“Well, you just seem so… so fucking _Catholic_ , I don’t know.” He smiles; it hurts. “Just wanna make sure nothing I say can be used against me.”

“And now I can’t help but wonder what terrible things you’re planning to say.”

_Don’t encourage him. Don’t let him win._

“Nah, not yet. Don’t think your holy ass could stomach most of it.” He stands, refilling his mug at the counter before returning to his seat. “D’you mind if I smoke?”

“No, well– are you allowed to? In here?”

He’s got such a pretty laugh; “Am I allowed to _anywhere_?”

I’m confused at the statement. Is it a belligerent political commentary? Maybe. One never quite knows with Anakin. My confusion, however, is quickly discarded when he pulls a small plastic bag and a pack of papers from his jacket pocket.

 _That_ kind of smoke, then.

I don’t much like doing things that are expressly against the law.

“Anakin, I should really g–”

“No! I mean, if – I can wait. If it bothers you. I should’ve said…” He trails off, staring blankly at his hands, frozen in motion on the tabletop.

Something I’ve noticed about Anakin is how you can always read his eyes.

“No. I’m sorry… go ahead. It’s… not my place to intrude.”

He jerks his head up, grinning wide once again.

“Someday I’ll get _you_ high, Kenobi.”

_Oh, I wish you could._


	3. Unstable

_A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.  
[James 1:8]_

 

Weeks pass, beautiful weeks in which we spend more and more time together. Dangerous, I am sure. But pleasant. When neither of us are working or asleep, we seem to gravitate towards the other.

It is April now; outdoors, green overtakes the cold grey of concrete, crabapple trees (Anakin calls them cherry blossoms) blooming pink among it all. Anakin’s apartment, though, stays minimal in its trademark blacks and reds. Today he wears a soft blue shirt that brings out his eyes and I think as he welcomes me inside that I have never been closer to breaking. Not since my teenage years, at least.

“Can I ask you a question?” Anakin is clearly on edge, but it’s not uncommon, considering his caffeine-fuelled lifestyle.

I smile slightly. Always so apprehensive. "Of course you can."

"Well, you won't... _tell_ on me, will you?" It's delivered with a fair amount of humor; but I can tell that deep down, he truly fears I will do just that, in any case.

"Who exactly would I tell?"

His confident grin returns. "Good point."

There's an awkward silence, then; shaking my head slightly, I break it - "So...?"

"Well... shit, this is harder than I thought it would be." He turns his head away. "Obi-Wan, you gotta promise me you won't hate me."

I sigh. "Anakin, despite my devotion to it, I am _not_ the Church."

"I know that! Fuck - okay, Christ, I just - look, maybe you know already, but I'm bisexual."

(Evidently, he intends for this to be some sort of bombshell; it's not. At all.)

"That's it, then?"

Anakin laughs shakily, looking a mix of bewildered and guarded and afraid. "Yeah, but aren't you going to lecture me, or something? Tell me I'm going to Hell, maybe? That's what everyone used to do when they found out. At school, I mean. Teachers, and – any adults, really. I just expected you to, well... I don't know what I expected. I'm sorry."

"What on Earth are you apologizing for?"

"Am I burdening you? Will you have to pray extra hard just to get it off your mind?"

 _Alright, now he's joking around._ (Sometimes I wish he would choose a mood and stay with it.)

"Does Padmé know?"

He laughs loudly. "Of course she knows! She's my _girlfriend_ , I can't keep that from her." He laughs again at my confused look. "Hey, maybe we're just more modern than you, but young people these days don't keep secrets like they used to."

"I admire how equal the two of you seem to be. It's really quite lacking, even in a city like this."

"I know... but, hey, don’t change the subject! ...you don't hate me, right, Obi-Wan?" It's goading more than anything, and he lays his face in his palms, looking up at me with big blue eyes.

 _Closer to breaking._ "I could never hate you."

He blinks - once, twice, calculated.

Our eyes are still locked.

"If I wasn't with Padmé, I think I could fall in love with you."

Something in me snaps. Feels like bones. Feels like I'm breaking apart from the inside. I turn away. "Oh, Anakin, I..." (cannot even finish my own sentence for fear of what I might reveal.)

This only serves to ignite his sudden intensity. "Maybe you're bisexual too, and you don't even know it. 'Cause you've never thought about it before."

Never _thought_ about it - if only I were so lucky -

Anakin laughs, maybe tauntingly, but I am too far away to even gauge if he can sense my discomfort or not. "Or maybe you really  _do_ want to be  _just friends_ with a handsome young man like myself-"

I am so far away; this conversation is _lightyears_ away. Beyond my control. "I really should be going."

He drops his head sideways to the table, smiling wide. "You only got here ten minutes ago, Obi."

"Don't... call me that." I say it with a touch too much malice in my strained voice. _This is heartless and you know it._

In a flash his head is up, eyes accusatory, tracing me as I stand and push in my chair. "You promised you wouldn't hate me."

I am too tired for this, too old. "I _don't_ hate you, I just- can't have this conversation. It's very inappropriate."

" _You're_ very inappropriate, coming over here every fucking day, thinking I won't notice you checking me out if I'm _high-_ "

 _Don't torture me like this, I love you -_ "I'm leaving. Let me know when you can act like an adult."

He follows me to the door, only, I think, so he can be the one to slam it instead of myself. "Let me know when you can act like a human being _,_ " he snarls before the door is shutting behind my back.

I walk home in a daze.

I know I will have to be much more careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i PROMISE things will get Heated very soon. really these first 3 chapters have been intro


End file.
